Dust in the Wind
by Nopride4531
Summary: A short one-shot told from a mystery person's POV. 'You always forget what you're supposed to remember...'


**Okay, so this is just a little idea that popped into my head. Kinda sad, but I hope you like! Also, see if you can guess who the narrator is...**

**Slash? No**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries or the lyrics to the quoted song.**

**Song: Dust in the Wind by Kansas**

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I've always had a problem with the phrase 'gone, but never forgotten.'

Fact is, everyone forgets what's gone, whether it was intentional or not. I've seen it time and time again. Sometimes I want it to change, for someone to remember. Sometimes I want to grab them by the shoulders and shout 'wake the hell up, you idiot! I thought you cared!'

But instead, I always have to listen to once bright and singing souls tell an outright lie to a room full of people in black.

'He was such a wonderful person, a loving brother and friend. He'll always be in my thoughts.'

The words mean nothing to me anymore; the energy has already been collected and sold for the highest price I could muster. I didn't catch the highest bidder's name, only made the transaction and carried on with work. I didn't even see if he hit the up or the down arrow in the elevator on his way out of the auction house.

'I... I only knew him for two years, but it felt like a lifetime. I... I loved him.'

The wavering voice of a young, dark haired girl reached my ears from my perch in the rafters. I felt irritation wash through me as I contemplated her words. Love does not form on the dot when there is no blood. Two years were those of many for the young boy lying in the closed casket. Time, his enemy one moment, his friend the next, is now obsolete.

Because time rests with the innocent.

A blonde teenager steps up to the podium next, but she only manages a few sentences before the sobs shake down her body and she's led off by her sandy haired man.

I shake my head and sigh. The same old thing.

Time.

After time.

After time.

The room is silent for a while, each soul bowing their heads, some grieving in silence, others not. But then one finally manages to get to his feet, which appear to be heavy as lead weights, and fight the emptiness to the podium.  
His hair the color of obsidian and clothes of the identical color, he reminds me a lot of myself. A creature of the night.

He positions the microphone and it gives little to no retalliation. He sets down ten sheets of coffee and bourbon stained notebook paper that reek of smoke, as if he'd tossed them on top of glowing embers, but retrieved them immediately afterward. He looks at them for agonizingly long moments, while I watch with a small but growing feeling of anticipation.

He takes the papers, crumples them up, and throws them over his shoulder, missing the candles on the altar by mere inches. He faces the crowd of people he would trade for the one in the casket and only succeeds in saying two words:

'My brother...'

And then he leaves without looking back.

The event plays in my mind many years after it happened and many years after the ones who he would trade for the young boy in the casket forget who it was they were supposed to be mourning. The pages that the man did not read that day crumple and collapse on themselves as the years go by. Eventually, they will be stumbled upon by an Ancient Documents Restoration Crew. But as soon as they are touched, they will crumble as he'd originally intended them to.

The man who only spoke two words that day did not forget who it was he had to mourn. He remembered up until he didn't have to anymore.  
So maybe I was wrong.

When his auction came and the energy was sold to the highest bidder, he caught my eye as he pushed the up button inside the elevator.

Why?'

And I found myself thinking back to those pages, the ones that had finally been vanquished by the flame that is time. I thought back to those pages and I said to him,

Everything is dust in the wind.'

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**I hope you liked it! Please review and let me know how I did :)**


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